The Corpse Groom
by Metronomeblue
Summary: Captain Swan crack drabble. Killian gets drunk and challenges Graham to a duel. Well, Graham's gravestone, anyway. Things ensue.


A/N: I have no idea okay. Blame Nightvale and tumblr.

Killian will gladly admit he was drunk.

In fact, he will most likely blame it on his being drunk.

Emma will agree. Sort of. She'll probably explain that yes, he was drunk, but not that drunk. Nobody could possibly be that drunk, not even him. Killian will likely begin to argue his case, and Emma will wander off to find pretzels.

But the fact remains that somehow, sometime, it happened, and Killian was both there and drunk. He was also brandishing a sword and shouting vigorous insults at Sheriff Graham Humbert's gravestone. This is but one of the many reasons that Emma will forever insist that it was all Killian's doing, but he himself will forever be adamant that Cora was behind it all somehow. (They're both right, actually, but it's better to just let them fight it out.)

It had all begun rather spectacularly when Emma and Killian decided to go out for drinks. They had developed a sort of oddball friendship, which, for the purpose of clarity, I will clarify as being mostly platonic. Mostly.

For you see, Captain Hook had fallen well and truly for the lovely Sheriff, and was decidedly upset about being placed in what was called, at the time, 'the friendzone'.

More because of the idea that Sheriff Swan would never know how he truly felt than any salacious desire to see her naked. (Although yes, there was that, too.)

So anyway, they were getting rather smashed when Emma began telling the good Captain the story of her ex and former boss, Sheriff Humbert, and her tone of speech and the sadness in her voice was enough to convince him that she still loved him deeply.

This made him upset.

That was an understatement, children, a technique I am sure you will employ to devestating sarcastic effect one day.

So our Captain was already drunk, and after that realization, he grew even more drunk, to the point where he formulated a plan. Killian Jones' plans were actually quite good when he was sober, but when drunk they had a tendency to go awry in the worst of ways.

As this particular plan did that night.

He stumbled drunkenly (because he was, in fact, drunk) to the Storybrooke graveyard, where he found a skull and many tombstones. He giggled maniacally and picked up the skull.

"Alas! Poor Ignacio! I drew him!" Killian, as intoxicated as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, cracked up at his own antics and dropped the skull, whereupon it broke in two. He tripped over to the Sheriff's grave, attempting to draw his sword. He failed. He spun in circles, trying in futility to pull his sword from where it sat, entrenched. "Fine!" Killan bent down and held a thigh bone like a saber, deciding subconsciously he'd rather not know where it came from.

"Come out, come out, Sheriff!" Killian laughed, twirling with a flourish. "I am challenging you to a duel for the fair princess's hand, and if you accept, come face me!" His back to the grave, Killian foolishly ignored the wisps of blue mists coagulating in mid-air and forming a body.

"Who the hell are you?" Graham asked.

"Aha!" Killian cried, jumping towards the ghost. "I am the fearsome and mighty Captain Hook, and I dearly love Emma Swan!" With a nasty snarl and a swing of his bone, Killian fell forward through graham, as though trying to strike him. Graham turned, head tilted quizzically.

"Okay then. Be good to her, okay?" Killian made a noise halfway between 'huh?' and 'duck'.

"Killian?" I heard you shouting. You okay?" EMma may have been stumbling, but she was thinking far more clearly than Killian. Graham breathed in deeply, muscle and bone forming cell-by-cell in his ghostly outline.

"Emma! Stay back!" Killian tripped over a tree root and half-ran, half-shuffled over to stand semi-protectively in front of her, still brandishing half of a thigh bone.

"Killian?" Emma asked, dizzily taking a step back.

"This knave and I are locked in mortal combat," Killian informed her. "For your hand."

"My hand?" Emma snorted, as sarcastic drunk as she was sober.

"Yes, your- what is it? favor? heart? Mind and body and soul?" Killian was squinting concentratedly at her.

"First of all- I am not your property, second of all, that's kind of sweet, in a twisted way." Emma made a face.

"You think?" He asked, delighted.

"Shut up," Emma sighed, walking past him. "Hey Graham?"

"Yes?" he looked hopeful.

"As much as I like you, I think maybe what's dead should stay dead, right?" He nodded, and dissolved into jelly fish. By which I mean jelly and fish and jellyfish.

"Come on," Emma began, dragging Killian after her, back to the town.

"Where are we going?" Killian asked dazedly. Emma stopped, turned around, and kissed him. Pulling away a moment later, she smiled.

"Home."

"But I thought you loved him?" Killian asked as only the drunk can.

"Yeah but I love you, too. You've got guyliner."

They went home, and slept off the alcohol, and the next night they 'rested' in bed.

"And that," Chloe Jones said, closing the book and staring at her younger siblings. "Is how babies are made."

"With jellyfish?" David Jones asked solemnly.

"Yeah." Chloe nodded, after a pause. "Totally."


End file.
